Orange Blossom Special
â€”for my grandfather
he wakes up every morning in the
stillness of the sunrise, just
before the day breaks open and the
sun gives its salute.
and he drinks his cup of coffeeâ€”
black and bitter, scalding strongâ€”
all alone in that dark living room
with his old friend Louis Lâ€™Amour.
heâ€™s a home-grown red dirt rascal,
ornery wit and easy drawl.
heâ€™s a good ole boy and a navy man;
a husband and a dad.
with the velvet voice of the preacher,
he lives a sermon of compassion.
he loves the great state of Oklahoma,
his dog, his garden, his grandkids.
he is southern charm personifiedâ€”
John Wayne swagger, winsome grin.
he is rough-edged cowboy romance
whistling soft and sweet and tired.
heâ€™s wild horses, granite mountains;
scent of coffee and cologne.
he is gold-rush eyes and fiddlinâ€™ tunesâ€”
my orange blossom special.
Dime Store Deliverance
I walked to the church â€˜cause the martyrs were callinâ€™
in the kerosene grimace of Thursday afternoon
Iâ€™d been dragginâ€™ that guilt like a gangrene appendage
I said â€œwe all got problems, so whatâ€™s it to you?â€
but the rain kept on pourinâ€™ and my faith came at discount
left me clinginâ€™ to second-hand miracles and booze
so I asked him if heâ€™d ever heard of a fresh start
he said â€œforgiveness is for those with somethinâ€™ to loseâ€